


Hey Stockholm, Meet Lima!

by JenovaVII



Category: Finder no Hyouteki | Finder Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-06-29
Updated: 2012-09-09
Packaged: 2017-11-08 20:18:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/447113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JenovaVII/pseuds/JenovaVII
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Short, cracky, smutty and sometimes more serious snippets in the life of Japan's most influential crime lord and his energetic photographer of a lover.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**HEY STOCKHOLM, MEET LIMA!**  
 _**Episode 0 (Pilot): Initiations** _

*

_If you put Takaba Akihito and Asami Ryuuichi in the same room, it's like you're introducing Stockholm Syndrome to the Lima one._

_Ridiculous?_

_Cliche?_

_Maybe so. Here, with them_ somehow _they make it work._

_Even if awkwardly. Because, after all is said and done, dysfunctional works best._

_Either that... or it doesn't work at all._

_Takaba Akihito has authority issues and, even though he tends to wildness, there's a lot still repressed inside. Perhaps unknown even to himself._

_And though Asami Ryuuichi isn't the World's greatest example of an honest man in the literal sense of the word, he isn't a liar either. Actually, Asami Ryuuichi is what one would rightfully refer to as: a perfect fucked-up model of radical honesty._

_Two wrongs... might just make one right._

_...Probably?_

*

 ** **Stockholm Syndrome**  -** Psychological phenomenon in which the hostage expresses empathy and positive feelings towards their captor.

 **Lima Syndrome -**  Inverse of the Stockholm Syndrome; in which the abductor develops sympathy for their hostage.

 **Radical Honesty -**  Direct, complete, open and expressive kind of communication.  
  
*

_Stay tuned for the next episode!_


	2. Episode 2: Necessities

 

  
**HEY STOCKHOLM, MEET LIMA!**   
_**Episode 1: Necessities** _

* * *

  
"I need hair gel and cigarettes."

"I need pocky and fixer."

"You don't _need_ pocky."

"You don't exactly _need_ either of those yourself."

"..."

"..."

"Jack Daniel's."

"7-UP."

"Calvin Klein black, tight boxers."

"Ice crea—Calvin, Calvin Klei—? Oh. _Oh_. Are, are we doing this? We _are_ doing this. Okay. Ice cream. Häagen-Dazs super premium ice cream."

"" _Lube._ ""

Kirishima pinches his nose-bridge and. with a darkening aura about him, silently asks the skies how was this his life. "Why don't... _the two of you_ go shopping this time, hm?"

He stands, looks from his employer to his employer's... housemate, and back to his employer again. Taking in their stunted and otherwise bewildered faces he doesn't sense any outright oposition. He breathes out heavily and ends up giving up the pen and the list to the gaping young man sitting inapropriately on the couch—that knee most certainly _does not_ belong under his rear end.

And then he is gone.

"Did he just... ditch us?"

"Ah. I believe he did."

"Can he do that?"

"Well, yes. You saw it as well as I."

"I mean: _can he do_ that? He's your employee, ain't he?"

"Indeed. Kirishima is no simple subordinate, however. He has a will of his own. A very strong one."

"Shouldn't he be fired?"

"I'll give him a raise."

* * *

  
Takaba viciously pats the space behind him on his scooter's seat.

Asami insists on taking the BMW.

Their co-shared conscience—which goes by the very Japanese name of Kirishima Kei—seems to have bought them train tickets beforehand.

(Just how far-ahead can his glasses see?)

Neither of them has the heart (particularly Asami, in the literal sense) nor the initiative to not follow through with his smooth suggestion.

* * *

  
The trip to the mall isn't without incident. Even though Takaba had turned to Asami at the doorstep and said "Lose the suit." Which the bastard did, contentedly, as if he was doing a favor to himself.

The word 'backfire' is at the top of Takaba's Black List, as it should be.

People still stare at the man at Takaba's side transfixed. With a simple button-up shirt, black, and a pair of high-quality denim and his hair down—just as if he'd gotten out of the bath and not brushed it in any way (which he hadn't)—, still a tad humid, he looks equally gorgeous.

Those around religiously act as if he were an idol, although they weren't all-out attacking or screaming or squealing in hordes of deranged fans but _damnit_ if the eye-fucking isn't overcompensating for whatever else they didn't dare do, and Takaba's teeth are losing quite a few nanometers of edge from the uncontrollable, furious gritting.

Asami dangles and strolles lazily, pretending he isn't aware of anything, and when their stop is announced Takaba just wants to stomp his way out of there and leave The Asshole to be devoured by the lion—

No. No, he does not.

So he remembers Kirishima's wise lessons of 'How To Deal With Your Boss Lover _Bastard's_ Sadistic Personality And Keep Your Sanity (Mostly) Intact', takes a deep chunk of oxygen into his lungs and then a step forward.

* * *

  
"Hmm. We need toothpaste."

"If you buy that candy, fruity thing again, I promise you—it won't be your upper mouth tasting it, Akihito."

* * *

Takaba still won't back down on shouldering their food expenses. Asami has made a few attempts at tricking—at _misdirectioning_ him: sometimes with take-out, sometimes suggesting they dine outside, sometimes even _encouraging_ Kirishima to invite them over for dinner (and as for Takaba's friends or Miyabi, well. Those did not need any type of encouragement whatsoever.) Still, aside from the first way out, it just isn't possible to prevent Takaba from not paying for their meals.

Asami _knows_ Takaba has no interest in living off of him in any way; that much is painfully obvious and has been proven a fairly large number of times. Surely the boy himself was aware that Asami knew that? So really, why such desperation in gathering and shoving evidence right in his face, time and time again?

The way Asami sees it, it was almost (well, no, not really _but..._ ) the other way around and Takaba is the one supporting _him_.

Sure, Asami owns the house they live in, provides any and every luxury imaginable, and anything that is required, anything at all.

But it is Takaba that satisfies Asami his vital necessities. It is the boy who supports him with every little gesture he originates: buying their food and cooking for him, sating his hunger. Providing him the very best amusement and entertainment just by being _there_ , by being _himself._ Asami's need for socializing—that he got plenty out there, partly due to his job but obviously not its entirety, which was not always pleasant or particularly interesting for him personally, and he was lucky if it was professionally. Takaba also satisfies his need for comfort; comfort of the kind his expensive commodities can't offer. And he does, of course, satisfy his lust, fuel his desire like no one else had ever come close to doing in the before him.

He also defies him, won't stick to advices given for his own good, with his own well-being as a priority, won't learn with his punishments and keeps on pushing, listening only to his gut.

And Asami _lets him_.

Their game of hunter and prey, even under the same roof—even in the same hunting ground; the same area of square meters—would be never-ending. They' would never catch of be caught _for certain_. But that also meant they _would_ _never let go_ , _would never be free_ of the other.

A double-edged sword.

Asami Ryuuichi finds his life with Takaba Akihito and his daily, constant, unfaltering hissy fits incredibly fulfilling.

* * *

  
And people still keep staring at Asami. Openly. And Takaba still doesn't like. Doesn't like it one bit.

Curiosity. Interest. Fascination. Fear. Respect. Lust.

And they don't even _know_ him. Don't know what he does. Don't know who he is.

And even if some had heard about him, had by chance recognized him, well—well they still don't have the slightest idea of what they're gossiping, muttering, talking, whatever-ing about. They _know nothing_ about Asami.

They know nothing about Asami _compared to him_.

And that is saying a lot, because aside from knowing what the man's body looks like under his clothes; what his hair looks like wet and down and _messy_ ; what his smiling—'real smile' _smiling_ —face looks like; what his house—his kitchen, his bath, his bed _feel_ like when he cooks for him, takes a shower with him, sleeps with him; what his default corporal temperature, his expression of pleasure, his subtle signs of discomfort are; how red his blood is when it's spilled in order to protect him; what his gentler and rougher embraces and lips feel like, warming him, calming him, bringing him back from the nightmares, teasing him, punishing him, claiming him; how many suits he possesses and how many cigarettes he smokes or how many times Kirishima calls him per day to fuss over him even though they spend most of their days stuck together like glue…

Aside from that—and from Asami's preference in drinks, and how little he really eats, and how he loves to cuddle while feigning sleep—

Takaba knows nothing.

And, crap, he is thinking too much again, about things that he shouldn't, and it's making him extremely hungry.

There is some incessant grumbling on the way to the sushi place—because Asami spoils him rotten with food and he has no qualm about taking _that_ from him, from time to time and with moderation, because if Takaba gives him a finger Asami will take not his arm but his whole body for granted— _that_ included "Can't go anywhere with you," and "Damn asshole, attracts attention every-fucking-where," because he just doesn't know when to keep quiet.

Asami decides to end it with Takaba pressed against the toilet's stall, biting his way into his mouth and keeping it shut. Takaba is still hungry and now aroused, too, and it's all stupid Asami's fault and he makes sure to inform the man of that, snarling and completely wrecking his dark strands.

Some half-hearted struggling with belt loops and then there is a shadow of—is that _amazement_? Yup, definitely amazement, where is his camera when he needs it, damnit!—on Asami's expression when after a brief ripping sound there is something tight and wet being slid down his cock.

The lone travel to the personal hygiene isle hadn't had the sole purpose of getting some toothpaste, it seems. The boy is getting too cunning.

Asami loves it too much to get worried about what else will be born with it.

Both appetites satisfied, plastic bags in hand, they return home.

* * *

  
_Stay tuned for the next episode!_


End file.
